


Growing Pains

by purewanderlust



Series: Love, Curiosity, Freckles, and Doubt [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Pre-Series, Pre-Slash, Weechesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:50:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purewanderlust/pseuds/purewanderlust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam picks a fight with his brother, but it all works out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Pains

**Author's Note:**

> Feeling neurotic tonight, so have some author's notes!
> 
> First off, yes, Utica is a real village, and as of 2000, it had a population of 274. I lived there for a while and I can say with certainty that it's one of the most bizarre places in the world. 
> 
> Also: There are spoilers for the movie Dragonheart in this fic. Though if you haven't found time to watch it in the last sixteen years, I don't really know what to tell you.

Sam spends the majority of his thirteenth summer angry and overheated, feeling like he doesn't fit into his own skin anymore.

Dad's ditched them in a tiny town in northwestern Missouri town, refusing to share details of whatever hunt he's on, saying he'll be back in a month. The town is called Utica, population 274. There's a post office, a gas station, and a red brick church; that's it. It's a good ten miles to the nearest Wal-Mart, twenty to the library, and Sam hates it. He feels trapped, pinned in, and gets even worse every time Dean jumps in the Impala and vanishes to Chillicothe where he's picked up some shifts at the local Movie Gallery.

It doesn't help that Sam's going through puberty, without any frame of reference because he was too young to notice when it happened to Dean, and he's pretty sure his brother never complained anyway. No matter how hard Sam tries, he can't recall Dean grumbling about how his legs and shoulders ached and how he kept having stunningly realistic dreams that left him breathless and sticky, unable to fall back asleep, so Sam tries to follow suit, and keep his mouth shut as best he can.

Not that he would ever tell Dean about the dreams anyway. It may be twenty miles to the nearest library, but Sam is well-read enough to know that it's not normal to get off on the idea of sucking bruises on your own brother's hipbones.

So.

All of it comes together to make Sam constantly cranky and probably really shitty company, but he can't seem to stop himself. His body's suddenly unfamiliar, and his dad is gone, and Dean has to work, and Sam doesn't even have school to distract him. It's created a baffling kind of cabin fever, which is cruelly ironic, since Sam's the only one in this family who's ever fought for any kind of stability, but he can't even bring himself to be annoyed. He's too tired. And, as if Fate felt she hadn't dealt him a harsh enough hand, it had to come with a bonus incest crisis.

Like Sam's life wasn't already fucked up enough without that development.

*

One such day, sometime in early July (Sam's long since stopped keeping track of the days), Dean comes tripping in from a long shift at work and he and Sam get in one of the biggest fights they've ever had.

"Heya Sammy," his brother greets cheerfully, "I got that new movie, Dragonheart, from work. Sean Connery, man!" He punctuates this by tossing a tape onto Sam's lap, "But we should probably go see that new Will Smith alien movie this weekend too, what's it called--"

Sam is on the couch, trying to read _The Outsiders_ because he thinks it might be required reading for next fall, but it's only serving to worsen his mood. It doesn't help that he's still feeling guilty for getting off thinking about Dean's mouth earlier and it doesn't even really hurt--the movie falling into his lap--but he's so frustrated that he just opens up his mouth and spits out the first thing he can think of.

"Jesus Christ, Dean, it's _Sam_." he snarls in a voice that sounds nothing like his own and Dean freezes in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room.

While Sam's told Dad plenty of times not to call him by the nickname, this is the first time he's ever done it to his brother and he's sure he's not imagining the flash of hurt that crosses Dean's expression. But then his brother's lips are curling into a sneer and Sam's momentary regret is swallowed by more annoyance.

"Why you gotta be such a little bitch all the time, huh?" Dean demands, "What the hell did I even do?"

 _Nothing._ Sam's brain supplies, _Everything._

God, he's so fucked up.

"I'm not a little kid anymore, Dean," he snaps, "So stop calling me stupid fucking nicknames that I never even liked in the first place!"

Oh, and there's a visible flinch at that one before shutters come down behind Dean's eyes.

"Man, what the fuck _ever_." Dean growls, flinging his boots down next to the couch, "Be an asshole, see if I care." He steps into the kitchen long enough to snag a beer out of the refrigerator and stomps back past his brother, slamming the door to their bedroom hard enough that the door hook with Sam's backpack snaps off and thuds to the floor.

Sam sits, frozen on the couch for a few long moments, his grip so tight on the paperback that he's warping the cover. His heart is pounding in his ears and he's so angry that it takes him a few minutes to realize that he just picked a fight with his favorite person in the world for no discernable reason.

"God _dammit._ " he growls, throwing the book down on the coffee table. He's angry with Dean, but his brother didn't really do anything. It's Sam that's screwed up, that wants things he shouldn't want and takes out his anger on the person least deserving of it.

And he doesn't really know how to make it right, either. Dean's not one for talking and, in this case, Sam's with him. It would be beyond awkward to explain his behavior to Dean. The next best thing he can think of is just showing his brother he's sorry.

So twenty minutes later, he knocks tentatively on the bedroom door, a massive bowl of popcorn in hand. "Dean? Can I come in?"

"What do you want?" comes the predictable reply, but it isn't a no, so Sam turns the handle and pushes the door open cautiously.

Dean's lying flat on his back in his bed, listening to his Walkman and staring at the ceiling. He doesn't even look up when Sam comes in, which isn't a great start, but Sam prevails.

"Uh, I made some popcorn," he tries, "Thought we could watch that movie you brought home."

There's a long moment where Dean doesn't answer and Sam thinks maybe he's got the music up too loud, but then his brother pipes up.

"Yeah, you seemed real keen on hanging out earlier."

"I was a dick," Sam says immediately, surprising himself and his brother, if the way Dean's eyes flit to him is any indication. "And I'm sorry."

Dean doesn't say anything, staring at him, glass green eyes impassive and Sam feels a swoop of desperation and something else deep in his stomach.

"There's peanut M&Ms in the popcorn." he says stupidly. If he can't appeal to Dean's sense of brotherhood, he can at least appeal to his appetite.

Dean's lips twitch, like he's trying to restrain a smile. "Are you tryin' to bribe me, Sammy?"

Sam's not sure if the nickname's a test, or just embedded in his brother's vernacular, but he doesn't correct him. "Maybe."

"M&Ms and the promise you won't be a bitch anymore might do it," Dean says, and yeah, he's clearly grinning now.

"Don't push it, jerk," Sam shoots back, relieved. "I _will_ watch dragons without you."

Dean's eyes widen, faking shock and he sits up. "You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would."

"Traitor!" Dean cries and it's all the warning Sam gets before his brother launches himself at him and they both go down in a heap on the bedroom floor.

They have to pop more popcorn before they start the movie, but it's totally worth it.

*

The movie turns out to be surprisingly heartbreaking, and when Sam chances a glance up at his brother as the credits roll, Dean's eyes look a little mistier than usual.

"Aw, Dean," he says with a shit-eating grin, "Are you mourning Sean Connery?" 

Dean shoots him an annoyed look and Sam realizes for the first time that he's migrated all the way to Dean's side of the couch, his head tipping dangerously close to his brother's shoulder. "Shut up, it was Butch Cassidy with dragons, okay? At least I didn't have to _cuddle_ my feelings away."

It's said teasingly enough, but Sam flinches away from his brother's pointed look, face heating. "Dude!" 

"Don't go getting bitchy on me again, Sammy," Dean warns, "That would really ruin my plans for the night." 

Sam's stomach plummets, and he struggles to maintain his expression. Of _course_ Dean has plans, he's seventeen and has better things to do than hang out with his freaky kid brother.

"Oh." Sam says, struggling for casual and missing by about a mile, "You have a date or something?" 

Dean looks at him for a moment, face inscrutable, long enough that Sam starts getting uncomfortable. He's being so _obvious_ , staring at his brother's freckles, probably wearing a sort of desperate expression, and Dean's gonna figure him out any second now...

" _We_ have plans," Dean corrects, the strange look flipping quickly to a gleeful, conspiratory grin. 

"We do?" Sam asks, nonplussed, but Dean only grins wider.

"Dude, have you lost complete track of the days? It's Independence Day! The only day of the year it's legal to blow stuff up!" 

"But we've never done fireworks before," Sam protests, "Dad never let us. Why now?" 

"Yeah, well, you've been having a rough summer," his brother answers, looking a little uncomfortable for the first time, "I though it might cheer you up." 

Sam stares at him in disbelief, a smile creeping onto his face to match the warm feeling that's starting to swell in his chest. "You got fireworks...for me?"

Dean nods, relaxed again, now that Sam's onboard. "Two crates worth in the trunk of the Impala, got a great deal. Now do you want to go or what? It's gonna be dark soon." 

He flashes Sam a blindingly white smile, green eyes sparkling like fireworks themselves. Sam counts the freckles on his brother's nose, tries to think of words to describe the warmth in his chest and realizes that maybe there's more to this than teenage lust. It's terrifying, but he grins recklessly, anyway. 

"Yeah, let's go." 

Years down the road, looking back on the summer of 1996, Sam won't remember the angst and uncertainty, or even the oppressive heat and loneliness. He'll only remember this one night and his brother, incandescent in a dark field. 

_Summer of 1996_ , he'll think, _that was the best summer of my life._


End file.
